


Dean's Table

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [74]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge, Family Reunions, First Meetings, M/M, Veteran Dean, Waiter Castiel, Walking Canes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: On Castiel’s first day waiting tables at the Roadhouse Diner, his co-worker tells him to save a spot for Dean, a young veteran with a cane who sits in the same corner booth every day. Dean doesn’t talk, but Castiel’s charm soon works its magic until Dean reveals that he’s there to reconnect with his brother after a painful falling out. Castiel hopes Dean will succeed, even as Castiel's roommate, Sam, visits the diner one morning.





	Dean's Table

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun story that popped into my head - I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Please give love to [delicious-irony](https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/) for her fabulous artwork! Link to art [here](http://oi66.tinypic.com/2ee9es1.jpg).

 

“That’s Dean’s table,” Jo told him when Castiel came in for his first shift as waiter at the local Roadhouse Diner. His gaze followed Jo’s finger where she pointed to a corner booth against the far wall. “That’s where he’s been sitting every day for the past few weeks. He doesn’t like going anywhere else, so we just kind of save it for him, you know?”

Castiel nodded, and adjusted his waist apron. “Save that table for Dean. Got it.”

“Right. And here’s our coffee station…”

Castiel wasn’t new to waiting tables, but he was used to restaurants, not breakfast-and-lunch establishments. The thing was, with evening classes for the foreseeable future, it made sense for him to work in the morning.

Jo led him around the empty room of vinyl booths and kitschy tables, chattering about their daily specials and some of the regulars he could expect to see. It was early—so early that the sun had yet to creep over the California horizon. The world beyond the large glass windows was dark, and Castiel yawned. They’d be opening soon, and Castiel would get thrown into the fray. Thankfully, he had an excellent memory and his last boss claimed that he was ‘an angel,’ as no amount of rudeness could move him to be even the slightest bit annoyed or impolite with customers.  

He trailed after Jo as they opened a swinging door at the curved metallic countertop and entered the kitchen, where her mother, Ellen—the owner—was prepping for the day alongside their head cook Benny.

Ellen smirked at him. “You sure you’re ready? Training on the fly can be tough. Don’t want to break you on the first day.”

“I’ll be fine,” Castiel said. He understood the job, and it was a weekday. He figured that he’d be perfectly competent by the time the weekend rush rolled around.

“Alright then.” Ellen set down a bowl and turned to her daughter. “Go ahead and open up.”

From there, the customers arrived, mostly in singles at first, and then groups as the sky lightened up outside. The stream of patrons was steady, and Castiel’s mind buzzed with the order of tasks to perform: seat the next group, wipe the last table on the left, refill the cup of the man at the counter, take the orders of the women on the right.

In a funny way, waiting tables suited him. His roommate Sam was surprised at learning that he’d gotten the job, since the Castiel he saw kept quiet and serious and focused on his studies. Sam seemed to have trouble believing that Castiel could be outgoing enough to smile and chat with patrons, form relationships with regulars, make jokes, and even flirt when the occasion demanded it. After all, aside from work and school, Castiel didn’t have a social life. College parties didn’t interest him more than history books, and he didn’t even like going out for drinks.

But he was good at his job, and he enjoyed utilizing different skills when the opportunity presented itself. It helped that this Castiel was just a waiter, not the real Castiel, and he could put on a show that pleased people and got him money to pay for rent and food. Win-win, really.

As the morning continued, Castiel made sure to keep Dean’s table free, and in the back of his mind pondered when the man himself would show up. At seven o’clock on the dot, he got his answer.

The man who entered the diner, causing the bell on the door to jingle, was white and fairly young—early-to mid-twenties, slightly older than Castiel—though he walked with a cane. Castiel guessed the limp came from a car accident or something, but when the man approached, Castiel met his gaze and realized he was a veteran. The man possessed a weary, wary countenance too old for someone his age, a look that Castiel recognized from his older brothers, all of whom had served abroad and come home with the same set to their shoulders. The man’s sandy hair was also cropped short in a military style, and he wore a flannel jacket and jeans.

Jo paused next to Castiel with a tray in her hands. “Morning, Dean. We’ve got your table all set. This is Castiel. He’ll care of you.”

So this was Dean. Castiel smiled at Dean once Jo flitted away. “Hello, Dean. Can I get you anything to start?”

“Coffee.” Dean’s voice was gruff. He coughed. “Please.”

Castiel’s smile deepened. “Of course. Well, have a seat when you’re ready. You know where to go.” He headed for the kitchen, leaving Dean to claim his usual spot. When he returned with the coffee, he bee-lined for Dean at his table and quickly filled his mug.

Dean leaned over to breathe in the aromatic steam. “Mmm. Thanks, man. What’d Jo say your name was?”

“Castiel, though you can call me Cas.”

“Castiel? Never met someone with that name before.”

Castiel put on a grin. He’d had this conversation several times already. “It is indeed unique. I’m not sure what my parents were thinking.”

Dean cracked a weak smile. “So you’re new here?”

“I am. So if you’ve got any favorite orders, let me know. I’ll be sure to remember them for the future.”

Dean’s smile slipped, and he shifted in his seat. “Um. Well, I just like coffee mostly. But thanks.”

“No problem. That makes my life easier, actually.” With a last exchange of smiles, Castiel darted away to assist other customers.

Hours passed, and Castiel was amazed that Dean didn’t leave. He sat in his booth, surveyed the other patrons, stared out the window, and fiddled with an ancient flip phone. He didn’t order any food, and according to Castiel’s estimate, he was on his sixth cup of coffee by the time it hit noon.

“That’s what he does,” Jo said, when Castiel helped her arrange plates on a tray for one of her larger tables. “He just wants coffee, and then he sits there till we close. Mom thinks something bad happened to him.”

“He’s a veteran, right?”

“Yeah. He nodded when I asked once, but he won’t say more.” She eyed Castiel. “But I saw him talking to you earlier, so that’s a good thing.”

“We only exchanged a few words.”

Jo shrugged. “More than I’ve seen him talk since he started coming here, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Yup. He’s a weird one, but he’s harmless.” She bent close to whisper to Castiel. “Mom has a soft spot, so we only charge him for one coffee no matter how many cups he drinks.”

“Ah. Good to know, thanks.”

Jo straightened. “Can you grab those last two dishes?” And they were off.

The patrons slowly tapered out after lunch, and Castiel took a quick break when it appeared they wouldn’t have many folks for the last hour until two o’clock. Dean was the only patron still in attendance, and Castiel wondered if Dean was hungry. Castiel himself was starving, and his feet hurt from not getting a chance to sit all day, so he ordered a plate of fries from Benny. As he squirted ketchup onto the plate, an idea formed, and he questioned Jo whether he should try or not.

“Go for it. He’s opened up more to you than me. It couldn’t hurt.”

So Castiel wandered over to Dean’s table with the full plate of fries in his hand. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean startled from where he was staring out the window. He glanced at Castiel’s face, then the fries.

“Do you mind if I sit with you? I’m on my break, and I thought you could use the company.”

One of Dean’s shoulders lifted in the approximation of a shrug, but he hadn’t said no. Watching for signs that he was unwelcome and not seeing any, Castiel slid into the booth seat opposite him and dug in to his fries.

 

“God, I love French fries. I wish they weren’t so bad for you.” Castiel smirked at Dean, whose gaze hadn’t left his face. “My roommate would be horrified if he knew this was all I’d eaten today, besides a protein bar for breakfast. He’s a bit of a health nut.” He shoved the plate toward Dean. “You can have some, if you want. There’s no way I should eat this whole plate by myself.”

Dean’s lips twitched into a small smile. He paused, then reached for a fry and jammed it in his mouth.

They ate in silence for a few moments, until Dean surprised Castiel by speaking up.

“My brother’s a health nut, too. Started in high school. When all his friends were eating chips and crap he was into baby carrots and kale.” He mock-shuddered, and Castiel grinned.

“I take it you’re not a health nut then?”

“Hell no. Give me beer and a fat, greasy burger any day.”

“If you want one, I could order it for you.”

And just like that, Dean’s expression shuttered. He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t need your charity.”

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d dealt with wounded pride in his family, and knew how to tread carefully. “It’s not charity. I’m just saying, if you’re hungry, you should get food.” He leaned over the table. “Just so you know, you’re in a diner, so you can do that very easily.”

Dean’s gaze narrowed, but then he snorted. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what is that?”

“Trying to be my friend because you feel sorry for me.”

Castiel grabbed his chest, faking an injury. “You wound me. Here I am, trying to be friendly.” He swept his arm over the table, indicating the now-empty plate of fries. “Sharing a bountiful feast with an intriguing stranger.”

Dean’s lips ticked, as if fighting a smile. “Intriguing stranger? I think you’re laying it on a bit thick.”

“Am I? All I know is what Jo and Ellen told me—you’ve been coming here every day for the past few weeks, and all you order is coffee. It got me curious, is all.”

“So you thought you’d get me to talk by shoving a plate of fries in my face?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Castiel gave Dean his best shit-eating grin.

Dean shook his head, but seemed amused. “You’re something else. I can’t believe they hired you.”

“I can. I’m damn good at my job.” Castiel stood. “Which, speaking of, I have to get back to. Thanks for joining me.”

“ _You’re_ the one who joined _me_.”

Castiel waved his words away. “I hope you have a good rest of your day. See you tomorrow?”

Dean glanced at him, his eyes full of humor. “Yeah, yeah. Go back to the kitchen.”

Castiel took the plate and returned to the back, where Jo was staring at him, her mouth agape.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

She scoffed, and snatched the plate from him. “Go help Mom wash up, will you?”

And when Castiel finally re-emerged from the kitchen, it was to find that Dean was gone. In his place sat a twenty-dollar bill to cover the coffee and his portion of the fries, plus a generous tip—according to what he’d scribbled on a napkin. Castiel stowed the note in his apron pocket and shook his head at the excessive money.

Dean certainly was a curious person. Castiel’s job had just gotten more interesting.

* * *

The next day went much the same, with Dean showing up at seven o’clock and staying in his corner booth. He didn’t start talking until he’d had a cup of coffee in him, and then he asked Castiel for details of his life every time he returned to refill his mug. Castiel told him his age, that he was a college student majoring in history and religious studies, and that yes, he was actually a very boring person who liked to read nonfiction books for fun.

“Books are awesome, but why nonfiction?” Dean asked when Castiel came to pour his fourth cup. “Why would you want to read about things that happened or are happening when you could escape with better stuff?”

Castiel put his hand on his hip. “What kind of better stuff do you mean?”

“I dunno. Fantasy. Sci-Fi. You ever read _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_? That shit’s hilarious.”

“Can’t say I have. Perhaps I’ll check it out.”

Which prompted Dean to bring his own copy the next day. He refused to leave until Castiel promised to not only take the book, but read it when he could.

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, the slightly battered book in one hand and an empty tray in the other.

“Yeah. I know where you work, and I’ll be here so you can give it back whenever. Just trust me, man.”

And Castiel did trust him, or was starting to. Their growing rapport over the next few days meant that Castiel cajoled Dean into finally ordering food, since straight coffee couldn’t be good for him. Soon, Castiel’s breaks were always at Dean’s table, chatting with him about the book or talking about life.

Castiel learned that Dean was an orphan, as his mother had died when he was a baby, and his father had passed away a few years ago. He also had the mysterious health nut of a brother, whom he hadn’t seen since a few months after their dad’s funeral.

“I was in a bad place, after he died,” Dean admitted one day, two weeks after they’d first spoken. His fingers tightly gripped his mug, and his expression was more haggard than Castiel had ever seen. “Dad and I had this mechanic shop together, right? But I couldn’t do it anymore, not without him, and I just…panicked. My brother was getting ready to go to college, and I thought, what better way to provide for him than joining the army? That way the kid could get a decent education.”

Castiel felt an urge to comfort Dean with a warm hand on top of his, but resisted, unsure how Dean would take it. “You’re a good brother, looking out for him. He’s lucky to have you.”

Dean huffed, the sound deriding. “You’d think, but he pretty much disowned me. He didn’t want me to join up, but I couldn’t handle the shop by myself. There was no other choice at the time.” He combed fingers through his hair, longer than when they’d first met, and Castiel noticed his arm was trembling. “I used to send him letters, but he barely replied. He got into your school, Stanford, and it was okay for a while even though he was still mad. And then things went to hell and…” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “So that’s why I’m here. I’m a chicken-shit trying to get up my courage to see him.”

At that, Castiel finally reached for Dean’s hand. Dean’s eyebrows lifted, but he accepted the comfort when Castiel squeezed.

“You’re not a chicken-shit. You’ve been through a lot, and so far everything you’ve done has been for the good of others. You should be kinder to yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dean muttered, his gaze on the table.

Castiel’s heart constricted. He glanced over at the clock. “Do you want to go for a walk when the diner closes?”

Dean lifted his head and frowned. “Um. You’ve seen that I have a cane.”

“Which helps you to walk, right?” Castiel didn’t mean for his words to sound so sarcastic, but thankfully Dean took it in stride with a wry look.

“Well, _yeah_.”

“We can just go down to the beach and then back. I think the fresh air would do us both some good after such a long morning.” Castiel hesitated. He liked Dean’s hand under his, the solid warmth of his rough skin. He twisted so their palms were together, their fingers clasped.

Dean didn’t pull away, but his eyes were wide. “What’re you doing?”

Castiel couldn’t speak. He wanted to press his lips to Dean’s hands, assure him that he was still a good man who deserved good things.

Instead, he let Dean go and stood. “Wait here, and we can go for a walk in a half hour. Please?”

Dean eyed him, and maybe Castiel was projecting, but he detected a kind of longing in his gaze. Dean nodded, and Castiel left to help close up.

Shortly after two o’clock, Castiel and Dean walked down the sidewalk toward the beach. Dean used the cane for his left leg, and Castiel would’ve held his hand if he didn’t feel like it would prevent Dean from keeping his balance. He’d never asked what happened to him, and he didn’t want to ruin the tenuously optimistic mood flowing between them. Castiel craned his head back and breathed in the sunlight.

“Have you lived in California long?” Dean asked.

Castiel glanced at him, but Dean looked away as if embarrassed. “No, but I love it. I’m actually from Illinois. What about you?”

“Kansas.”

“Really? Small world. My roommate’s from there as well.”

“Hmm,” came Dean’s reply.

They moseyed along at a sedate pace. Castiel tasted salt on the air, and he could hear waves crashing well before they arrived at the stretch of sand leading to the water. Gulls screeched overhead, and the sky was a dazzling blue with lazy clouds drifting by. Families were enjoying the surf, their small children shrieking, and young folks lay sunbathing with sunglasses and wide hats.

Beside him, Dean was puffing slightly, winded.

“Are you alright?”

Dean didn’t reply as he aimed for a wooden bench overlooking the beach. He plopped down onto it with an explosive sigh.

Guilt tore at Castiel’s gut. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you walk—”

“No, it’s fine. My last physical therapist always nagged me to exercise more.” Dean massaged his thigh, his face lowered. “I, uh, got shot, if you were wondering.” His shoulders hunched. “I’m more metal than bone here, so it’s actually better to be somewhere warm.” He paused when a shirtless man with a Mohawk and lime-green nipple piercings passed them on a skateboard. “Even though California _really_ weirds me out sometimes.”

Castiel laughed, and Dean shyly grinned back.

“So you’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future, then?” Castiel held his breath, hopeful.

“Probably. I mean, back home with my uncle I could never get warm—the metal was always cold. And I swear it picked up strange frequencies sometimes.” He leaned against the back of the bench, and extended his arms so one draped on the bench top, just above Castiel’s shoulders.

Castiel avoided scooting closer to Dean, not wanting to overstep if he was reading this wrong. Still, he was close enough that he caught a whiff of the diner from Dean’s shirt, which was basically frying oil and grease. Castiel imagined he didn’t smell any better, so perhaps it was best they weren’t pressed together. “That sounds like a good plot for a novel. Perhaps the metal allows you to commune with aliens.”

Dean shoved him playfully. “I see _The Hitchhiker’s Guide_ is working its magic, even for you, history boy.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” He peeked at Dean through his eyelashes, and his stomach fluttered. “But you will be staying here, right?”

Dean sighed. “If my brother wants me to.”

“I’m sure he wants to see you and make sure you’re okay.”

“I just know he’s gonna hit me with that ‘I told you so’ face he makes.” Dean wrinkled his nose. “I hate that face.”

His scrunched expression was adorable, but Castiel figured Dean wouldn’t appreciate the adjective if he said it out loud. “Where are you staying now?”

“A motel down the street. Why?” He eyed Castiel sidelong. “You propositioning me?”

Castiel sat up straight, his cheeks aflame. “Never! I mean, no, of course not. I wouldn’t…I mean, _yes_ , I am interested in men, but we met through my work only two weeks ago and that seems highly unprofessional not to mention unethical—”

“Whoa, calm down.” Dean placed a palm over Castiel’s mouth. His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I’m kidding.” He removed his hand.

“Right. Yes. Haha.” Castiel bit his lip, still feeling the warmth of Dean’s heat on his chin. “Sorry.” He was never this awkward when he was working. Where were his patented flirting skills now?

Dean just laughed, and Castiel marveled at how his face lit up with the sound. How had he not realized how attractive Dean was until now? The sunlight was obviously better than the poor, yellow lighting of the diner, but out here, he could see how green Dean’s eyes were, how many freckles adorned his face, how his dimples popped. He still had bags under his eyes and a five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw, but he was beautiful.

A vibration from his pocket made Castiel jump, and he cursed. When he removed his phone, an alarm flashed on his screen—he had a class to prepare for.

“You got somewhere to be, huh?”

Castiel groaned. “I’d much prefer to stay with you.” He hesitated, but let his head drop onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean didn’t move, and they both breathed in sync as the surf rolled in and out. The palm trees dotting the expanse swayed with the wind.

“Well, if you gotta go, at least I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Dean trailed off, and Castiel sat up.

“Why choose the Roadhouse, out of all the places around here?”

“Convenience. I can walk from my room, and it’s pretty near some of the campus buildings. There’s hot coffee all the time. Plus, Ellen’s nice.” He smiled and stared down at his lap. “Jo, too.”

“Should I be jealous?”

Dean lifted his gaze to meet Castiel’s. “No.” Though Castiel’s tone had been playful, Dean’s wasn’t.

Castiel’s heart stuttered. He stood abruptly. “I’ve got to get ready for class.” He ached with the thought of parting with Dean, although the sentiment was ridiculous—he’d see the man tomorrow at work, like he had for a little while now.

But the Dean outside the diner was different. Quieter, calmer, more open and honest.

“I’ll leave you to your tan,” Castiel said with a wink. He paused. “Unless you need help back?”

Dean jabbed with his cane as he mimicked Castiel’s earlier words, “This does help me to _walk_ , right?” He smirked.

Castiel mock-glared at him. “Ha ha.”

With a chuckle, Dean waved. “Catch ya bright and early, Cas.”

Castiel dipped his head. “I look forward to it. Have a good night.”

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and Castiel was busy from the second the doors opened until the time Dean entered and sat at his table. Castiel barely had a chance to say hello and deliver coffee before he had to flit over to seat new customers and deposit dirty plates in the kitchen. Luckily, Ellen brought in a busboy for the weekend shifts—his name was Ash, and the pungent aroma of weed followed wherever he went. He had a mullet, un-ironically as far as Castiel could tell, and he often hummed under his breath. He seemed to exist in his own world, but since he did his job, Castiel didn’t mind one bit.

The rush continued from breakfast until brunch, and underneath the pile of orders and tasks to remember, Castiel wished he had more time to sit and chat with Dean. If only it was a weekday, and he could slide across from him and they could share another plate of fries.

But it was not meant to be. With Ash and Jo darting to and fro—and Castiel side-stepping them—he nearly missed the entrance of his roommate. Of course, Sam was hard _not_ to see, considering that he towered over the other clientele at well over six feet tall. He bobbed through the doorway behind a young family, then smiled when Castiel approached after seating them.

“Hey, man.” They clasped hands.

“I never thought I’d see you at a diner, Mr. Protein Shake.” Castiel smirked.

Sam shrugged, but he was grinning. He wore workout clothes that were only slightly damp—he must’ve taken it easy on his typical morning run. “Eh, sue me. I wanted to see where you worked, and I felt like pancakes. I’ve been studying my ass off so I figure I deserve them.”

“You do indeed. Do you mind taking a spot at the counter?”

“Not at all. And I’ll have an orange juice when you get a chance.”

“Of course.”

Castiel brought him his juice, and then caught Dean’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. He popped over to Dean’s table with a fresh carafe of coffee.

“More coffee?”

“Sure.” Dean squinted while Castiel poured into his mug. “Friend of yours?” He nodded at Sam’s back, hunched over the counter as the tall man sipped his orange juice.

“My roommate.”

“The health nut?”

“The very same.”

“I thought you said he wouldn’t be caught dead in a diner.”

“I might’ve been exaggerating. Apparently he had a craving for pancakes.”

Dean slapped the table. “Smart man. Pancakes are definitely the way to go, especially the way Ellen makes them.” He licked his lips. “He here alone?”

“Why, you want to invite him over so you can talk smack about me?”

Dean’s face morphed into a gleeful expression. “No, of course not.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’ll ask him. Hold on.”

It was another few minutes before he got a chance to speak with Sam. He leaned in close to the counter. “So you know that man I’ve been telling you about?”

Sam straightened on his stool. “Diner Dean? He’s here?” Excitement infused his voice, and Castiel wished he hadn’t confided about his crush to Sam. Then again, who else could he talk to besides his best friend?

“He’s always here. And he wants to know if you’d like to sit with him and gossip about me.”

Sam snorted. “I like this guy. _Your_ guy.” He pointedly wagged his eyebrows, and Castiel cursed his cheeks for flushing in response. He smacked Sam’s shoulder, then pointed to Dean’s table.

“He’s in the corner. I’ll lead you over and most likely live to regret this.”

Sam laughed and stood, his half-drunk orange juice in hand. Dean glanced up, and for a second, he appeared playful.

And then his face went slack.

Castiel paused, since Sam had frozen somewhere behind him. He turned to check on his roommate. “Sam?”

But then Dean spoke, his voice a low croak like when he and Castiel had first met, except his tone quivered with what oddly seemed like…fear. “Sammy?”

Sam gaped. “Dean?” he breathed.

And amidst the conversations and clamor of a busy diner on Saturday morning, the whole world seemed to hush as realization dawned on Castiel.

Dean’s brother, Sam.

Sam, who was Castiel’s roommate.

Of course. Health nuts, the both of them. Or rather, not both—just _Sam_.  

“I’ll…I’ll give you a moment.” Castiel darted into the kitchen. The brothers needed space for their reunion, and Castiel didn’t want to intrude. He couldn’t believe the magnitude of this coincidence, and yet he was happy that Sam and Dean would have a chance to talk out their rough history. Castiel shook his head, still shocked that he hadn’t made the connection sooner.

For the next hour, he avoided Dean and Sam at the corner booth. He had Jo deliver Sam’s pancakes, as he didn’t want his presence to interrupt their intense conversation. Still, he peeked over when he could, and his shoulders sagged in relief when it seemed like they were not only getting along, but tentatively working through their issues as they gesticulated and hugged and shared food. Castiel had heard enough from both sides to know that this was a good thing for the brothers. They needed each other back in their lives, and it was serendipity that Castiel had brought them together again.

At long last, as the time for closing drew near, Castiel hung up his apron and headed over to the table. Dean and Sam were among the five or so folks still in the diner, and Castiel figured they were probably hungry after so many emotions.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, as he set down a plate of steaming fries.

Both brothers startled and gazed at him, their faces splotchy and Sam’s eyes wet.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean sniffled and scooted over, shifting his cane against the window. Castiel didn’t miss Sam’s smile when Castiel pressed close to Dean’s side.

“So,” Sam said after a moment, his eyes on Castiel. “Crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s like a goddamn romance novel or something,” Dean said.

“You’d know about that now, would you?” Castiel asked, and Dean nudged him with his shoulder.

“Shut up. I like to read, okay? Don’t judge a man for his preferences.”

Sam’s smile was dazzling. “Well aren’t you two the cutest.” His tone was teasing, but his expression warm.

Dean grumbled under his breath.

“Oh, and Cas?” Sam continued. “I hope you don’t mind—I invited Dean to stay with us.”

Castiel’s lips tugged into a grin. “Of course not.” He nudged Dean back. “So I guess you won’t be Diner Dean anymore, but just another roommate.”

Dean turned an offended look on him. “Diner Dean? Seriously?”

Sam burst out laughing, and Castiel’s heart squeezed with joy. He plucked a fry from the plate, and before jamming it in his mouth, he mused that this wouldn’t be just Dean’s table anymore—it would be theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Follow me [on tumblr](http://through-shadows-falling.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You can also check out my published fiction [at my website here](https://www.kparrbooks.com/). I've got a paranormal short story with an F/F romance out now, and a young adult F/F fantasy novel coming out soon!


End file.
